


Facades

by Maurauve



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28182198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maurauve/pseuds/Maurauve
Summary: Through a thick haze, Pansy begins to question the dazzling and dizzying circumstance she's found herself in.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Tom Riddle
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5
Collections: Secret Circe Yule Fic Exchange





	Facades

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsMast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMast/gifts).



> Written for the Secret Circe fic exchange!
> 
> I've since fallen in love with this pairing and have too many plans for expanding this now

Pansy stared at herself in the mirror and chewed absently on the inside of her lip. Her hair was perfectly in place - not a strand out of formation despite the dancing. She smirked and leant forward to freshen up her lipstick.

“Pans,” a voice called, and she was pulled toward the dance floor again.

She didn’t recognize the face, and a flicker of confusion passed through her, though it was quickly forgotten and thankfully so. An elf carrying a tray passed them, and she eagerly grabbed another glass of whatever alcohol had been ordered for the evening. 

It was sure to be enchanted or charmed, she could feel her mind fogging over already, and she smiled at the man in front of her. 

The crowd parted before her, making room for her dress. Her second dress was far larger than her first, and took up far more room. The man held a hand out and bowed, and Pansy was glad to curtsy back and take it.

Another elf passed, and then another. 

Her partner was a skilled dancer, expertly whisking her in every direction. She could hardly feel her face anymore from the smiling, and her eyes felt as though they’d been glazed over. The room blurred around her and only a small prickling in her chest reminded her that she should be more careful with strangers and alcohol. She knew nobody, and that would have terrified her in another life, but she loved the idea of being the mysterious woman at the centre of an evening. She could already imagine the hushed whispers of the older women at tea the next day while they fretted about social niceties and proper standards. She even smirked when she wondered what they’d say about her dress. They’d probably call it gaudy and “too much,” and it definitely was. It hugged her waist and spilled out beneath her like an upside-down flower blooming underwater. 

The golden glow of the room swayed and faltered as she spun, and she caught the eye of someone she ought to recognize…

Something about the woman’s face seemed so familiar. The way her face looked pinched and sour was strikingly similar to someone she used to know, only it looked younger than what she expected. The features were all right but the particulars of them were all wrong. 

Another elf, another glass.

She spun again and lost the woman in the crowd.

Around her, she could hear cheers and singing. 

Before she knew it she was excusing herself from the crowd to find the bathroom. Whatever those drinks were enchanted with, they still filled her bladder and made her need to piss. 

She wandered the ballroom until she found a hallway. This manor had to have some kind of toilet nearby, didn’t it? It felt like she’d known it her whole life, but she couldn’t remember the way to the loo if her life depended on it.

A hand wrapped around her arm, a voice hissing something sharp in her ear.

Pansy had no time to react before she was pulled into a bright room. A toilet flushing caught her attention, and she took a step toward it but was pulled to the ground instead.

Fingers forced themselves into her hair, holding it back as the woman Pansy had seen before pulled her face over the toilet and spoke quietly. Suddenly Pansy’s stomach hurled, and the contents forced their way out through her throat. Tears pricked at her eyes in surprise, but already the figures beside her were becoming less hazy. 

Someone spoke, and she could put real words to the sounds. 

“Easy there,” the pinched woman muttered, hand on Pansy’s back. “It won’t feel nice to come off those enchantments.” 

Pansy’s eyes fluttered. 

“You’ve got yourself in a right world of trouble,” a Scottish voice clucked, and Pansy tried to look up to get a glimpse at her. She couldn’t recognize either very well, but as the haziness started to part she could feel a sliver of terror shoot in her chest.

The first woman spoke again to the other, and her voice seemed too young. Everything about her seemed too young.

Pansy stiffened. 

It was because the woman  _ was _ too young. Pansy had never seen Narcissa Malfoy in her youth, but it had to be her. 

“Listen,” the almost-Narcissa pulled Pansy’s face to look her in the eyes. “He’s got you under some kind of spell. You’re not from here. Do you remember your home? Do you remember anything at all?”

“What are you talking about?” Pansy managed to choke out in her confusion, the haze still seeping from her limbs. She didn’t understand. Of course she was from here, everyone she knew was from here. This was her  _ wedding _ for Merlin’s Sake, she wouldn’t get married without her parents there, or-

Pansy stopped. 

Her wedding?

“I don’t understand,” she muttered, her hands drawing into herself as she leaned against the toilet. “What do you mean?”

The woman rolled her eyes and handed her a small vial. “Your new husband isn’t who you think he is.”

Pansy’s eyes widened. Obviously a husband would go with a wedding. Pansy pushed the vial away, but the Scottish woman was strong and pulled Pansy upright. “You need to be able to  _ think _ . Tell us, what’s your name?”

“I’m Pansy  _ fucking  _ Parkinson, now get your hands away from me!” She shrieked, pushing the Scottish woman away from her and taking several steps back until she was leaning against the wall. “This is my wedding. You have no right to come into my husband’s home and tell me what to do or what to drink.”

Almost-Narcissa stiffened and looked to her friend. “You don’t have any cousins, do you?” The woman shook her head and shrugged. 

“What does that matter?” Pansy asked indignantly, her speech still slurring.

Almost-Narcissa stared at Pansy through slitted eyes. “You don’t even know who you married, you daft bint. Listen here,  _ girl,  _ that man is dangerous. Why else would he charm you to keep you compliant? Why else would you not even know who you married?”

“I- I  _ do- _ ” 

“You  _ don’t  _ and everyone here knows it. Look at your eyes.” Almost-Narcissa dragged her to a mirror and pulled her to face herself. 

“Of course my eyes would look like this, I’ve been drinking all evening and just got sick, which, might I add, is worthy of a hex or two.”

“You’re making it really hard to help you.”

Pansy shrugged. “I don’t need your pity, Narcissa.”

Almost-Narcissa’s eyes hardened at the name, and Pansy smirked. 

“Shit, Cissa, she knows you. We can’t let her tell him about this.”

Narcissa snapped and an elf with a tray appeared before her. She took a glass from the tray and offered it to Pansy. “My apologies, then. It seems I was mistaken. How about a drink?”

Pansy laughed harshly. “I don’t think so. I won’t be taking anything from you, and you better pray to Circe that my husband doesn’t slash you down for what you’ve done.”

The women turned to each other, and in a snap, Pansy was vaguely aware that she was in the centre of the dancing crowd again. She tried to remember what had happened between the bathroom and here, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. 

She looked out at the people dancing around her and found that she couldn’t remember if she knew any of them. Cool hands clasped her own and she spun to see who she was dancing with.

Pansy’s arms dropped to her sides, her eyes wide and heart thumping.

Before her stood an ashen figure with bright red eyes, his forked tongue slithering from his mouth. She wanted to scream. Of all the people she’d hoped to recognize,  _ He _ was not one of them.

He blinked, and a wave of calmness washed over her, and suddenly the only person in front of her was a handsome young man with dark hair and a pretty smile.

His eyebrows raised at her reaction, calculated and curious. 

Peeling his eyes from her, he smiled and pulled her close to his side. 

“Well, Mrs. Riddle, I’d say we had quite the evening. Come, I should be getting you to bed.”

A thick heavy warmth spread into her stomach, and her heart calmed. She took his outstretched hand gratefully and let him lead her from the dance floor.

She hazily remembered that she wanted to look for someone. A woman with a pinched face leaned against the wall with a friend and narrowed her eyes at Pansy as they passed, and Pansy’s eyebrows pulled together.

The woman looked so familiar, but a bit too young. Perhaps she knew a cousin of hers, or her mother. 


End file.
